


He Must Be Wicked to Deserve Such Pain

by snowblowingoverafieldofdeath



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Kidnapped Stiles, Lots of Angst, Multi, Mutilation, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-04
Updated: 2015-01-19
Packaged: 2018-01-14 12:26:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1266538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowblowingoverafieldofdeath/pseuds/snowblowingoverafieldofdeath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles considers his options outside of Beacon Hills, but leaving the pack doesn't sit well with Derek. Angry and hurt, Stiles storms out and heads home, only to be met with unexpected visitors with malicious intentions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Betaed by the wonderful meertansekh
> 
> This is my first foray into Teen Wolf on my own. Please let me know if any tags need to be added.
> 
> This takes place after season two, but does not follow seasons 3a and 3b.

It really wasn’t something that Stiles had figured would cause a fight. Seriously; he was going into his senior year of high school, and he needed to think about his future and what he wanted to do. He’d known for years that he wanted to go into forensics; but now it was time to seriously start looking into his options. He had the brochures in his bag anyway. It’s not like he had planned to flaunt the fact that he was looking at schools across the country in Derek’s face.

He didn’t even know why Derek cared, honestly.

The pack had been having a meeting at Derek’s loft, and though everyone had left already, Stiles hung around for a bit to help the werewolf clean up a bit. There was a lull while Derek went to get some garbage bags from the all-night convenience store (the old sourwolf really underestimated the mess a bunch of teenagers could make in just a few hours), and Stiles had simply decided to go through a few of the school brochures to occupy himself until Derek got back.

“What’s that?”

Stiles glanced up at the growl, before realizing that Derek’s glare was directed at the brochure. He checked the front to make sure that there was no offensive material before looking back at the werewolf in confusion.

“It’s a pamphlet thing for Loyola University in New Orleans?”

Derek’s scowl deepened as he dropped the bags from the convenience store onto the counter. “New Orleans? Why are you looking at schools across the country?”

“Uh, because that’s where all the best schools for forensic sciences happen to be? I mean, not all of the best schools are across the country. There’s one in California, but I like looking at my options.” Stiles sat up and frowned slightly as he turned to watch Derek. “Are you actually mad that I’m looking into my future?”

“Do you want to leave the pack?” Derek shot back, his voice still a deep growl. He refused to look at the teenager.

“What? No. I’m just looking at my options. I don’t understand what’s wrong with that. Am I not supposed to have a future? Do you expect me to stay here my whole life or something?”

“That’s what pack does, Stiles. They stick together.”

Stiles snorted incredulously. “So you’re telling me I can’t go into the career path I chose long before all this supernatural crap started happen? I’m sorry, but I’m not giving up my dreams because just because of your weird pack rules.”

“Then why don’t you just go to a school nearby?” Derek finally turned to face Stiles, his face contorted in anger. “Go to a local college—”

“Because I don’t want to? Is that so hard to understand?” Stiles couldn’t keep the incredulous expression off his face. “Do you know that I’ve never even left the state? Because that is a thing I would like to do! Preferably before some supernatural beastie ends up killing me. Which, going by the last few months alone, is gonna happen sooner rather than later. So no, Derek. I don’t want to go to the local state collage that probably doesn’t even offer the program that I want to go into!”

Derek stared at the teenager, unimpressed. “You can always go into something else—”

“I don’t want to go into something else! Are you just not listening to me? The three best schools for forensics are on the other side of the country, and so if there’s any chance I can get into any of those, then I’m going to try.”

“Stiles, packs don’t desert each other! If you go away to college, you’re deserting the pack!”

“That’s a fucking dumb rule!” Stiles shot back, leaping to his feet. “I’m not abandoning anyone. I’m just looking into colleges because that is a thing high school kids do! It’s normal! Can I not have one normal thing in my life?”

“Stiles—”

“No, seriously. I just want one thing to be normal for a while and I’m going to have to start applying to colleges soon if I want to even have a chance of being accepted for next year! What is so wrong with that?”

Derek scoffed. “Your father’s a sheriff. You probably can’t even afford colleges like that.”

Stiles actually reeled back a step, almost feeling as though he had been physically struck. He shoved the college pamphlet back into his bag, hefting it up to sling it over his shoulder. “I don’t have to explain my education choices to you. Have fun cleaning up.”

He stormed past Derek and out of the loft, practically tripping down the stairs and out of the building. He threw himself into his jeep, feeling for all the world like a child having a temper tantrum. But he was too annoyed and hurt to really care at that moment. He would probably apologize to Derek tomorrow. But right now, he needed to calm down.

“Who does he think he is, trying to dictate where I can and can’t go to college?” he muttered to himself as he drove home, stewing in his own anger. It was a quiet drive despite his anger, until he pulled up into the driveway. The police cruiser was nowhere to be seen; his father must have been still at the station. Stiles sighed quietly because it felt like it had been days since he last saw his father, let alone spoke to him. He understood, of course. The sheriff was working on a huge case that had popped up in recent weeks: drug smugglers.

It was something so entirely normal and human that Stiles felt relieved.

The house was dark and silent as Stiles walked inside, dropping his bag carelessly by the front door as he usually did. He headed to the kitchen first, the intention to grab a snack that was loaded with a ton of sugar and then head up to his bedroom to kill some things on one of his video games. That would totally cheer him up.

(He would worry about the implications brought up of being cheered up by killing things said about him later.)

He had just stepped into the kitchen, one hand reaching out to flick on the light, when a pair of thick, strong arms suddenly wrapped around him. One arm was around his chest, pinning his arms down to his sides, while the other pressed a damp, sweet smelling cloth over his mouth and nose. Stiles started to struggle as viciously, or as viciously as he could being 147 pounds of pale skin and fragile bones, kicking back against the man’s (at least, he hoped his captor was a man, because those were definitely masculine arms) grip, trying to scream and breathe through the cloth.

A sweet smell started to invade his senses, and Stiles started to panic because he was pretty sure that he was breathing in chloroform. That just proved the theory that he was an idiot. His vision started to blur and darken and his struggles weakened considerably and he swore to himself. The man’s arms tightened around him.

The last thing Stiles knew before losing consciousness was the man saying something.

“I got ‘im, boss…”

*~*~*~*~*

When Sheriff John Stilinski finally got home, it was almost three in the morning. He was bone-tired from spending every moment that he could at the station, and only noted that his son’s jeep was in the driveway and there were no lights on in the house. He assumed Stiles was already in bed and sleeping, so he simply headed to his own bedroom.

He hoped to catch a few hours of sleep before he had to head back to the station. These creeps were wanted in five states and they had to nab them before they moved on again.

He was so tired he didn’t even check in on his son, assuming Stiles was safe in bed.


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry about the wait for this chapter! It is currently unbetaed, but as soon as my beta reader gets to it, I will update it. Hopefully chapter three won't take as long.
> 
> Enjoy!

Chapter Two

The first thing that Stiles noticed when he finally regained consciousness was the splitting headache and the bitter, disgusting in his mouth; it felt like he was hung over. He wondered for a brief moment what exactly happened at the pack meeting the previous night.

That is, he wondered until he realized that he was tied up to a chair, his arms bound tightly behind his back and his ankles strapped to either leg of the chair.

“Seriously?” he grumbled to himself as he shifted awkwardly in the seat in an attempt to see how much leeway the coarse rope had.

Not much, it turned out. He could barely even rotate his wrists, let alone try to pull himself free. If he wasn’t careful, he could end up cutting off his circulation.

“Well isn’t this just perfect?” he huffed out in annoyance, peering through the darkness of wherever he was being kept. But all he could really tell was that he was stored in a large, windowless room.

“Hello?” he called out, his voice rough and cracked. Probably from the chloroform. Stupid stuff. Stupid Stiles for getting caught. “Hello? Evil kidnappers? Is anyone there?”

Stiles could almost hear the crickets in the silence that answered him.

“Of course I would be kidnapped and abandoned,” he grumbled with an indignant huff. “No need to put a guard on the weak, little human. Seriously. Everyone underestimates me. But I can be dangerous. I can totally be dangerous. I have my own weapon and everything.”

“Has anyone ever told ya you talk too much?”

The gruff voice came out of the darkness behind Stiles, closer than he would have liked. The suddenness actually caused the teen to yelp in surprise. He twisted and turned, trying to look over his shoulder at whoever spoke.

“Actually, yes. I get it all the time,” he huffed out, giving up on trying to see the speaker. “What do you want with me?”

Light suddenly flooded the room and Stiles had to clench his eyes shut at the brightness, huffing out again. Whoever these kidnappers were, they didn’t really have many manners. Slow, heavy footsteps echoed through the room, moving closer and closer before finally coming to a stop right in front of him. Stiles blinked his eyes open to look up at the man, his mouth curling into a small frown.

The man crouched down in front of Stiles, a crooked grin on his face. He had dark eyes and dark hair, and at least two days’ worth of stubble on his chin. He was lean, not overly muscular; maybe he was a werecat or something. 

Stiles was pretty sure that he had been kidnapped by another pack; who else would bother with him?

“You better learn to keep your mouth shut, kid, else ya not gonna like the results.”

Stiles pursed his lips, twisting his mouth into a deep scowl directed at the man. “Unfortunately for you, I’m pretty much physically incapable of shutting up. So you’re shit out of luck in that regard.”

The kidnapper chuckled lowly, appearing to be genuinely amused. “We’ll see, kid. We’ll see. Bet ya dad will be wanting you back in one piece, though.”

That made Stiles pause, staring at his kidnapper in confusion. He had naturally assumed that whoever had taken him was some sort of supernatural creature; another wolf pack, maybe. Who else would go through all the trouble of kidnapping _him_? But mentioning his father, of all people; not his alpha or his pack. That threw him off. Wouldn’t a supernatural creature mention pack first?

“. . . Who are you? What do you want with me?” he asked in a steady voice after an awkward moment of silence. 

“You really can’t shut up, can ya?” the man snorted, shaking his head slowly. “Don’ worry, kid. Long as ya dad does what we say, you visit will be short and sweet. If not . . . Well, ya won’t be happy.”

“Who are you?” Stiles asked again, his chest tightening in dread. 

“Well, I guess that depends on whether or not your dad tells you anything about what he’s working on. If so, then you’ll probably know me as Cavallo.”

That threw Stiles for a loop and he blinked at the man several times before speaking. “Cavallo? Seriously? The drug smuggler that my dad has been chasing after?” He started to laugh; he couldn’t help it. Here he had assumed that he had been kidnapped by a supernatural being for supernatural reasons, and it turned out that it was merely a human for human reasons! Granted, according to all his father’s reports Cavallo was pretty dangerous for a human, but he was still was no match for _werewolves_.

“Ya find me funny?” The man’s voice was a low growl, all amusement gone to be replaced by anger. A large hand flew out and he struck Stiles across the face. Stiles’ head snapped to the side with the force of the blow and he stopped laughing. He couldn’t wipe the smug grin off his face, though. Pain flared across his cheek as he slowly turned his head back to look at Cavallo. 

“I don’t find you funny,” Stiles assured his kidnapper with a snort. He was trying to contain his amusement and relief, but it was impossible. “I just wasn’t expecting . . . Well, you. Don’t worry; I won’t be here long.”

“Ya have that much faith in your dad?”

Stiles chuckled and shook his head; humans were so funny, especially when they didn’t know about the supernatural world. “Don’t get me wrong, Mister Scary Drug Smuggler; I have all the faith in the world in my pops. He’s the best sheriff this town has ever seen. But my friends will come for me soon. Then you’ll be sorry.”

“I’ll be sorry?” The man laughed lowly, shaking his head slowly. “I ain’t afraid of some high school twerps. No, kid; you’re the one who’s gonna be sorry.”

“I’m not afraid of you,” Stiles replied seriously, shaking his head with an amused grin. And it was the truth; facing off against a dangerous but human drug smuggler after things like kanimas, psychotic werewolves, and psychotic hunters was a piece of cake. He actually expected Derek and Scott to come bursting through the door any second.

“Well now, that either makes ya stupid or a liar. Which are ya?” The man smiled cruelly, cracking the knuckles of his fingers in a threatening manner. “Doesn’t really matter. Ya’ll be scared by the time I’m done with ya.”

That was all the warning Stiles received before a large fist slammed into his face. He felt bone crack and blood started to pour from his nose. He groaned, but still grinned at the man through the blood. “A broken nose; how original,” he taunted. “This wouldn’t be the first time someone’s beaten me up! Hell, my friends regularly leave bruises on me! You’re gonna have to try a lot harder than that to scare me!”

Cavallo grinned darkly and slid his fingers into Stiles’ hair to yank his head back roughly. “Oh, I’m jus’ gettin’ started, kid. I still gotta send a message to your dad, after all. Once he sees what I can and will do to you, he’ll hafta listen. Unless . . .” the man chuckled lowly, leaning in close to Stiles’ face. “Unless he don’t really care about ya at all. “Cause if he don’t listen, you’re gonna die. I will kill you, slowly and painfully. Now, you gonna shut the hell up?”

Stiles stared the man down, his own gaze steady. “You’re going to die before I do. My friends will beat your ass so hard, your kids will feel it. So you might as well let me go now and save yourself some pain. They’ll be here any second.”

“No one’s gonna find you, kid,” the man laughed out loud. “No way.”

“You don’t know my friends,” Stiles replied with a smug smirk, though the effect was probably ruined by the blood still dripping down his face. He tried to sound confident, though he was a little worried; he didn’t know how long he had been unconscious and the Pack still hadn’t arrived. But he had to have faith. They would find him. 

“And you don’ know me.” The man let go of Stiles’ hair only to strike him across the face. “No one’s gonna find you.” A punch to the gut had Stiles wheezing. “No one’s coming.” Another hit across the face. “I bet no one even knows ya gone yet.” The man shoved the chair back, and Stiles let out a sharp cry of pain as it fell back onto his bound arms. Cavallo crouched over him and grinned. “But they’ll notice eventually. And they’ll listen to my demands if they want you back.”

The fists hit Stiles hard, over and over again. He bit his lip, tasting his own blood. He couldn’t stop himself from grunting in pain. He just had to hold faith that the Pack would arrive soon. He’d dealt with worse. He would be fine until they got there.


End file.
